


Time To Duvet

by Liadt



Category: Kaldor City
Genre: Gen, Unconventional courtship, warning for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uvanov had teased him, insulted him, but still he seemed to be stuck with Kaston Iago as his official chaperon! Iago had been appointed to look after him during a crucial assignment in the outer Zones, and Iago refused to leave his side - day or night... Just because Uvanov was paranoid and short-tempered didn't mean he needed Iago's protection! </p><p>And Uvanov simply refused to be seduced by Iago. At least, that was the idea. Until his twenty-four-hour bodyguard decided the safest place for Uvanov was in his bed!</p><p>Or </p><p>Five times Uvanov annoyed Iago in the bedroom and the one time he didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time To Duvet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for _Unconventional Courtship_ ficfest 2015.
> 
> Many thanks to Aralias for the beta:)

**One**

Uvanov trudged up the stairs of the only hotel in Midmar because the lift was broken. Midmar was a town in Zone 8 that had sprung up to provide accommodation for the workers in the two factories there. One factory made stun-kills and the other made stopDums, the robots used to control people without hurting them. 

“I knew it was too good to last,” complained Uvanov, over his shoulder to Iago and Justina as they followed the manager to the penthouse suite. “The receptionist was so welcoming. After passing her desk it’s all gone downhill. The penthouse suite better be worth the hike, though I doubt it in this one-Dum town.”

The manager led them into a spacious set of rooms, with views across Midmar. The wallpaper was green and gold with matching furnishings.

“A little tired and dated, but it’s hardly roughing it,” said Justina, looking around.

“It’ll do for a few nights,” said Uvanov.

“I disagree,” interjected Iago. “It’s as safe as a takeaway in Rull’s hands.”

“Is it?” said Uvanov, alarmed.

“Yes. Look at the air conditioning vent - the grill is the width of a man, anyone could easily crawl through it to get at you. The lock on the door is a four form digi-cross lock - a toddler could crack the security code in minutes. And then there’s the glass.”

“The glass looks fine to me.” Uvanov walked towards the windows.

“Stay back, Uvanov,” warned Iago and went to examine the glass. “It’s not prism glass; it’s ordinary single layer glass. A sniper standing on the balcony opposite could splatter your brains over the sofa, if they didn’t decide to do it by jumping down through the skylight. What are the floorboards made of?” Iago bent down and started to pull up a section of carpet.

“Aren’t you being over zealous? I’m here to meditate between the local business cartel and the worker’s union. Why would anyone want to assassinate me?” said Uvanov.

“Uvanov’s right,” said Justina. “The workers appealed to the Minor Faction to have the Chairholder mediate instead of a Family member of the Board, because they think all the cartels and the Families are in it together and Uvanov isn’t from a Family. And the Cartels think anybody from the Company Board will fix things in favour of them.”

“This is an Outer Zone. It doesn’t have the security Kaldor City has - in fact it’s practically lawless. Therefore, Midmar is an ideal place for anyone who wants to get rid of Uvanov to have a go and blame it on a crazed worker,” explained Iago. “Along with the usual anti-robot factions, there are anti-gun protestors who enforce peace with grenades, local gangsters who’d increase their standing by having a shot at a Firstmaster and lastly there are jealous Board members who’d send a hired killer to take advantage of the lax security to clear their path to the post of Chairholder with a bullet.”

“OK, you’ve made your point. What are you going to do about it?” snapped Uvanov, who didn’t want to hear any more about him being shot, blown up or anything else that could result in his demise.

“Iago could stay in this room to protect you. The sofa is bigger than most people’s beds,” suggested Justina.

“Fine. We’ll do that,” said Uvanov, decisively.

Iago shook his head. “Not in here. My room’s the next floor down. I’ve not seen it yet, but in theory, it should be more secure. Without a skylight a rooftop attack isn‘t something we have to worry about and the ventilation system won’t need a man-sized outlet to air a smaller room. This is the largest set of rooms isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes by far,” confirmed the manager. “All the others consist solely of a bedroom and an en-suite.”

“Hmm, that gives me less square footage to guard.”

“I’m not staying in a room allocated for staff, even if it is safer. Manager, move my luggage to the next best room.”

The manager, a plump, sweaty man, rubbed his hands together nervously. “Um, Firstmaster Chairholder, Kaston Iago’s room is the best one after this one.”

“What about my room? I’m an executive assistant,” said Justina. She didn’t like the look of the hotel and dreaded to think what the next best room after Iago’s would be like.

“It’s the same size, but the furnishings aren’t as good,” replied the manager.

“Oh.”

“You can have my suite, Justina and then you can report to me when any homicidal maniacs turn up,” said Uvanov.

“Uh, thanks,” said Justina.

“My pleasure,” said Uvanov with a smirk at the way Justina nervously eyed the windows and skylight. 

****

“Is this it?” said Uvanov incredulously. He was standing with Iago and the manager in the room given to Iago. Apart from a narrow strip of carpet, which ran straight from the door to the wall opposite, the room was entirely filled by a king-sized bed. At their backs was a sliding door to a fitted wardrobe and on the other side of the room was a door to the en-suite. The walls were decorated with red and black flocked wallpaper and the bed sheets and ceiling were bright scarlet. 

“How did you get the bed in? Did the rain cause the walls to shrink around it? This is ridiculous. Take me to a bigger room,” said Uvanov.

The manager coughed. “This is the biggest room, after the penthouse suite. The majority of guests don’t stay long.”

“I’m not surprised. I feel like I’m trapped in a rotting mouth. Iago tell me the room is a death trap and we can move back upstairs.”

Iago inspected the room - it didn’t take very long. The prospect of staying with Uvanov in this room pleased him as much as it did Uvanov. However, there was only room for one dictator on Kaldor and Iago had decided it was Uvanov. He’d be damned if he’d let Uvanov be assassinated whatever the cost, personal or otherwise. 

“There are fewer security risks in here.”

Uvanov groaned. 

“The inner walls are thicker, which’ll make things difficult for a bomber for a start,” said Iago.

“How do you know the walls are thicker?” asked the manager in surprise.

“I can’t hear any noise from the other rooms,” stated Iago.

“I know this place would fit right in the Sewer Pits, but it doesn’t mean it’s full of rowdy revellers,” said Uvanov dismissively.

“You’ve mistaken this place for a hotel. Hotels occasionally rent out their rooms for, ah, recreational purposes,” grinned Iago. “I believe we are in a brothel that occasionally lets out rooms to sleep in for a couple of nights. The walls are thicker so the clientele can focus on their own activities. There’s no point in soundproofing the penthouse suite as it takes up the whole of the top floor.”

“Is he right?” demanded Uvanov.

The manager’s embarrassed squirming told Uvanov all he needed to know. “We don’t get many guests from out of town…”

“Brilliant,” said Uvanov, with sarcasm. He would have started condemning all and sundry to a miserable life in the ‘Pits if he didn’t think the Pits would be preferable to Midmar. “I’m taking this side of the bed,” said Uvanov, admitting defeat.

“I’ll leave you to get settled,” said the manager as he made a hasty exit through the door.

“You did bring some nightwear, didn’t you?” Uvanov suspected Iago was the type of person who didn’t wear anything in bed. 

“I prepare for all eventualities.”

“That’s something. I wouldn’t want an assassin to break in here and have their last thought before you shot them was to think I was screwing you.”

“We’re in a brothel. Everyone will think that’s why you’re staying here.”

“It’s the only hotel here. I didn’t have any choice,” moaned Uvanov. 

“That’s what they all say.”

“You’d better not snore,” grumbled Uvanov.

****

Uvanov lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, quietly seething. He hadn’t become Firstmaster Chairholder of the Board to share his bed. Not with someone he didn’t want to share it with at any rate. It was the middle of the night and he was awake. If anyone should be awake it should be the man who was supposedly protecting him, not Uvanov himself.

Uvanov wished he’d taken his chances on the top floor. The suite was so large he thought he’d have time to escape from an assassin searching through the rooms. And he wouldn’t have to listen to Iago breathing as if he was dead to the world. Uvanov got up and stepped over Iago to go to the bathroom, not that he needed to, but to see if Iago would wake up. 

Unbelievable, thought Uvanov, as his feet touched the floor. You would have thought clomping over someone would rouse them, but, oh no, not his personal bodyguard, who he employed at great expense. _He_ hadn’t stirred at all.

Uvanov turned round to give Iago a piece of his mind, loudly. 

“Ia-what the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Uvanov, his voice going from angry to fearful and back again.

Iago was sat up in bed with a laser pistol in his hand. When Uvanov had turned around, he’d felt the barrel of the gun brush his temple. 

“What I’m paid to do,” growled Iago.

“I thought you were out for the count. How did you move so quietly?”

“It’s an old trick.”

“Well, don’t do it again.” said Uvanov. “Well, not to me,” he clarified.

****

**Two**

Uvanov was sat on his side of the bed, in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He was going through a print-out of the workers’ demands and conditions, highlighting what was reasonable with a pen. His wish that he’d wake up in the morning to find that the workers and the factory owners’ cartel had settled their differences hadn’t come true and he was stuck listening to Iago brushing his teeth.

There was a knock at the door. “Room service,” said a warm female voice.

Absently, printout in hand, Uvanov stood up and automatically pressed the key pad to open the door. 

Iago rushed out of the bathroom. “Don’t open it!” he said and added, “You moronic cretin!” when he saw Uvanov had.

“Oh!” exclaimed Uvanov. 

Behind the door, the receptionist from yesterday was standing wearing a robe and not much else. What had startled Uvanov was her cry of shock, shortly followed by the sound of the tray of champagne and oysters she’d carried crashing to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I thought this was another guest’s room,” she said, belting her robe tightly. “I’ll have this tidied up straight away. Oh.” The receptionist had noticed Iago appear behind Uvanov. “This _is_ Kaston Iago’s room?” she asked, confused.

“Fifty percent of it,” replied Uvanov. To Iago he said, “Something you forgot to cancel? I know why the receptionist was so friendly now - it was all for your benefit. Well, I don’t do threesomes, so goodbye.” Uvanov aggressively punched the buttons to shut the door. “If you were thinking of screwing anyone on this little business trip you can forget it. If I’m not having a good time, then no-one is.”

Iago wasn’t unduly bothered - he wasn’t into buxom blondes. 

Uvanov continued speaking. “Before I forget, remind me to remind Justina to veto any expenses from Company security that are more expensive than three drinks from the mini-bar, but not to inform them. If they do find out they’ll join the local security team in refusing to fire on the workers. Rull would go over to the opposition for three burgers and a tart, and the others wouldn’t even be that demanding. What happened to loyalty to the Company?”

“The local guards feel they have more in common with the workers than outside security,” said Iago.

“But they’re giving up their rights to smash heads in! Security is full of types, like Cotton, who can’t believe their luck in getting a job where they’re paid to be violent. I don’t know what Kaldor is coming to these days when you can’t rely on a sadist armed with a stun-kill. And another thing,” said Uvanov dangerously, “call me a ‘moronic cretin’ again, Iago, and you’ll be saying it from the middle of the ‘Pits after I’ve had your balls cut off.”

Iago wasn’t fazed. “You’re lucky you’re still alive to tell me that. Opening the door to a stranger is suicidal. I’m not paid to protect you from yourself.”

Uvanov waved his printout at Iago to dismiss him, but, of course, there was nowhere for him to go.

****

**Three**

“Dance like a robot, dance like a Voc, don’t let those circuits stop,” sang Uvanov tunelessly, as he leaned on Iago for support. 

Iago punched the pass code into their room’s keypad. When he’d left the hotel’s bar with Uvanov, he’d been glad Uvanov wasn’t so drunk he’d passed out. Uvanov wasn’t Iago’s preferred choice to carry over the threshold, but after the nth rendition of whatever pop chart hit Uvanov was caterwauling he’d changed his mind. Iago then steered Uvanov to the bed and plonked him on it. Uvanov stopped singing and collapsed on the bed. Reaching down, Iago pulled one of Uvanov’s boots off.

“What are you doing?” questioned Uvanov without moving.

“I thought you’d passed out,” replied Iago.

“Bring me the contents of the mini-bar and I will.”

“You’ve already had enough to regret it tomorrow.”

Uvanov snorted derisively. “Listening to the factory owners and the workers yapping gives me a headache - I won’t be able to tell the difference between headaches in the morning. Anyway, what’s the point of having a round-the-clock bodyguard if I can’t use the opportunity to get completely pissed, without fear of hitmen taking advantage? You’ll protect me, won’t you, Iago? Of course you will - dead men don’t pay bonuses. The ceiling’s very red. The decor on the first Storm Mine I went on tour with was had the same colour ceilings. Do you know what I did on my first tour? Of course you don’t -”

Oh God, thought Iago. Perhaps singing was preferable to listening to a mind-numbing ramble on the old days. Iago couldn’t imagine any tour-tale lacking in killer robots making an interesting anecdote. 

“-Our Captain was a tight bastard.”

“And they were a minor member of a Family,” yawned Iago, bored already.

“Yes! How did you guess?” said Uvanov excitedly, sitting up and falling back down again. “She’d banned any gambling, because that was how her family lost their money. She used the robots to check her rules weren’t broken, but we got round that by…”

Iago went off to the bathroom. If this went on much longer, his teeth would get astonishingly clean.

****

**Four**

It hadn’t been a good day and an unusually subdued Uvanov didn’t promise a good night. Earlier in the day, an assassin had made an attempt to kill Uvanov, in the hotel‘s foyer. Iago had killed the hitman and Uvanov had hurt his arm falling to floor. As Iago lay in bed, he heard Uvanov attempting to pace the small en-suite and then come back into the bedroom to step over Iago to his own side of the bed. 

Iago had planned to get Uvanov to finish his tale of the gambling swindle on the Storm Mine. Last night, just as the story had been getting interesting Uvanov had changed tack and wittered instead on the subject of a long- forgotten entertainer and how Uvanov respected his right to sell out. Iago’s knowledge of Kaldor’s culture didn’t stretch back that far and he couldn’t have passed comment, even if he’d cared. This, he thought, must rank as the worst trip ever if its highpoint was to be a drunken ramble by Uvanov.

Iago felt Uvanov shifting about the bed. He’s going to step over me again, thought Iago. There was only one thing for it, even though Iago was sure he’d regret doing it. He threw back the covers and sat up. Uvanov, with his arm in a sling, turned to him.

“Let me give you a massage,” said Iago.

“What? Why?” said Uvanov in suspicion and surprise.

“Because I am sharing the same bed as you and I won’t get any sleep with you tramping over me all night,” answered Iago.

“I’m in genuine pain, after you knocked me to the ground injuring my arm. What am I supposed to do - meditate to take my mind off it?”

“If I hadn’t you’d be dead.”

“I’m not complaining - it’s good to know I haven’t wasted my money employing you. There’s one less assassin in the world, thanks to you. Although, apparently, I’m the one that is expected to pay for the cleaning of their brains off the walls. I don’t think it should be me, as I was the one being fired at, but etiquette is illogical like that. I’ll charge it to the Company.”

“There’s the plaster that fell down from the ceiling as well.”

“The assassin’s laser bullets caused the damage and, as the plaster hit Justina on the head, _she_ should pay that expense. She was cross-eyed afterwards, but she wasn’t hospitalised, so she can use the money she saved in hospital bills to pay for re-plastering. Hmm, maybe I should sue the hotel for everything they’ve got for negligence in allowing important Company officials to be injured. Ideally, I’d have the place raised to the ground.”

“That can be arranged,” said Iago, in a business like manner.

“Can it?” Uvanov cheered up a little at this news.

“At a price.”

“It always is,” scowled Uvanov. “Is this why you’re offering a massage in the middle of the night? I knew the red décor would have this effect. I’ve heard of the psychological effects of red: it leads to sex and bad driving.”

Iago gritted his teeth. Uvanov was being ridiculous. “If I was a sex worker I wouldn’t bother with anyone who was injured - it wouldn’t encourage repeat business. I imagined, as you refused to let a medVoc near you-”

“You’ve seen the robots in this shit-hole. The thing would rip my arm off and collapse in a pile of rust,” interrupted Uvanov.

“Or take any pain killers.”

“Being fired at is bad enough. I’m not adding poisoning to the list of the ways people have tried to kill me.”

“Yet you drink the tea.”

“If there was an attempt to lace the tea with poison, the tea would neutralise it - it tastes lethal enough.”

Iago couldn’t argue with that. “A massage will relieve the pain.”

Uvanov gave Iago a long hard look. Iago gazed back calmly.

“Very well,” said Uvanov, reluctantly and put his arm out for Iago.

“Where does it hurt,” said Iago, feeling around Uvanov’s arm.

“At the top, above where your fingers are - ow. Careful!”

Iago moved his fingers away and massaged Uvanov’s shoulder.

“What are you doing? It doesn’t hurt there.”

“It’s referred pain. If the top of your arm hurts, it’s likely it’s your shoulder that has sustained an injury.”

“Oh I see. It’s not having any effect.”

“It won’t if you don’t relax your shoulder blades down from around your ears.”

“I think you’re trying to cover up your lack of technique - ow!” said Uvanov as Iago dug his thumb into Uvanov’s arm.

“I said relax or it won’t work,” ordered Iago. Uvanov surprised Iago by how quickly he relaxed his muscles. “How did you manage to relax?”

“I visualised the Families being banished to the ‘Pits with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Just thinking about it is making me feel better. Oh look, there goes Landerchild in a bathrobe, barefoot. I don’t know how he’ll survive there without a sauna. He’d love this. Mmm.” Uvanov wondered if the red decor was having an effect on him, he was beginning to enjoy the massage, although a worrying thought crossed his mind what if Iago thought he was getting off on the thought of Landerchild in the sauna. 

“That was, ah yes, for the massage not for the image of Landerchild enjoying himself,” said Uvanov.

“That would be sick,” replied Iago.

“Very,” agreed Uvanov. Suddenly, Iago stopped. 

“Is that it?” asked Uvanov, huffily. He’d wanted Iago to carry on.

“Does your arm still hurt?”

“No.”

“Well then, we can both get some sleep, can’t we?” said Iago, venturing back under the covers and turning away from Uvanov.

****

**Five**

Iago grinned at his reflection, put down his toothbrush and went into the bedroom. In his short absence, Uvanov had covered the bed with various sheets of paper and a data pad. Uvanov glanced up from the cracked data pad he was holding. 

“Ah, Iago, can you make head or tail of Justina’s notes?” queried Uvanov.

Iago sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a piece of paper. “It’s some sort of short hand.”

“But can you read it?”

“No.”

“You have a fling with my executive assistant and you can’t read her handwriting.”

“It wasn’t that type of relationship.”

“Obviously. I don’t think I’d have coped if you were secretly a romantic, exchanging love letters with Justina. Would it be too much of a security risk to visit her and get her to decipher this nonsense?” said Uvanov, collecting up the sheets of paper and putting the cracked data pad on top of the pile.

“Not if you don’t mind being shot at again. The hospital would be an ideal place for a sniper.”

“Why did Justina have to go and develop concussion? No consideration for her injured boss. She was fine yesterday. When she collapsed at the table after lunch, I thought she’d fallen asleep. Seemed perfectly reasonable - the worker’s rep didn’t half go on. Justina will get all the attention now. What‘s the point in wearing this if it doesn‘t get me the sympathy vote?” moaned Uvanov, as he took his sling off and flung it across the room.

“The medVoc said you should wear a sling for a week.”

“I’m not taking advice from a walking rust bucket. If it hurts - you can give me another massage.”

Iago had been right - he’d known he’d regret sorting Uvanov’s shoulder out. “You could claim you were too ill to carry on and return to Kaldor City.”

“Nothing would be resolved. We’d only have to come back and go through the whole thing again.”

“Not if you create a contract for a top-secret plant that needs extra stopDums and stun-kills for guards.”

“Hmm, more income for the cartel and guaranteed hours and overtime for the workers, I like it, but there isn’t anything new in development.”

“Who said anything about the secret development being real? Use the excess stun-kills for a new terrorist group, controlled by you, of course, and use the Dums to round them up and bask in the glory of being the Chairholder whose leadership prevented complete chaos breaking out in Kaldor.”

“Brilliant! But is that wise? I’m not having much luck with controlling the Tarenists,” said Uvanov.

“This group will be under your sole control.”

“I think a fat bonus will be coming your way soon, Iago.” 

****

**Six**

Iago and Uvanov were both in bed, individually scrolling through their own data pads. 

“Our last night together,” said Uvanov, cheerfully, turning the data pad off and putting it on the carpet. “That was a truly excellent idea of yours, Iago. After the lawyers have read through everything and the new terms and agreements have been signed in the morning, we can leave.”

“Hmm,” said Iago, absently. He had something he wanted to ask Uvanov, but was uncertain how to phrase it. “Uvanov,” said Iago, hesitantly.

“Yes,” replied Uvanov, curtly.

“Do you remember what you talked about when you were drunk?”

“No, that was the aim of getting pissed in the first place.”

“You were in the middle of an interesting story about a gambling scam you ran on a Storm Mine tour.” There - he had admitted out loud that he’d actually found something Uvanov said interesting. He’d left out entertaining; he didn’t want to go overboard. After all, Uvanov was a pawn in his schemes, nothing more.

“Wouldn’t you rather hear about the killer robots on Storm Mine 4 again? That’s all people want to hear, except they think the carnage was caused by ore-raiders.”

“I probably know that tale as well as you. I want to hear how you fixed the roulette wheel.”

“I can’t claim the credit for that. It was a friend of mine, Sheen, who fixed the circuits. It couldn’t be done now - the technology’s changed drastically since then. The idea to fix it was mine. Why are you so curious?”

“I’m a robot programmer - I have an interest in the uses and misuses of technology.”

“I’d be careful what you misuse. Sheen tried it off the Mine in a casino in Kaldor City. He was lucky to only lose a couple of fingers,” warned Uvanov.

“I’d still like to hear what happened,” pressed Iago.

“Very well,” said Uvanov, giving a pleased smile before starting the story. “It wasn’t fair that we were paid less for doing the most work…”

****

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Written using the _Mills and Boon_ prompt: 
> 
> MISSION TO SEDUCE - SALLY WENTWORTH
> 
> Her personal bodyguard 
> 
> Allie had teased him, insulted him, but still she seemed to be stuck with Drake Marsden as her official chaperon! He'd been appointed to look after her during a crucial assignment in Russia, and he refused to leave her side - day or night... . Just because Allie was pretty and petite didn't mean she needed Drake's protection! 
> 
> And she simply refused to be seduced by him. At least, that was the idea. Until her twenty-four-hour bodyguard decided the safest place for her was in his bed!


End file.
